July is National Black Bean Month.
Do you ever feel like you are in the Chopped Kitchen? This salad came from such an experience. After opening the cupboard below the sink, I realized that my sweet potatoes had to be used ASAP. However, I desperately wanted a salad.
I cannot contain myself. There are a hundred things that I should do right now besides write a blog post. Yet, I find myself sitting cross-legged on my freshly-slipcovered couch, typing away.
Yesterday I moved into my first apartment, and I cannot wait to share some photos.
In a way, this apartment fell in my lap. A friend from PIU (whom we will call R) rented a furnished basement apartment from a couple who attends a nearby Baptist church. R graduated in May, and she moved to another part of town to rent an apartment with friends. I asked R if her landlords planned to find another renter after she moved out, and the rest is history.
Over four years ago, I started this blog with a Lemony Snicket quote, and my home page boasts a picture of Lemony Snicket books. Without a doubt, Snicket is my favorite monikered children’s author. His proverbs are quite wise, including this one:
“Sometimes words are not enough.”
― Lemony Snicket
At the end of every trip, I find photos that don’t really fit with any post. Like these.
Most people go to the zoo to see the elephants, the giraffes, or the tigers. But at the Reid Park Zoo, the birds stole the show. Majestic peacocks ruled the park. Frilly flamingos strutted around their island, and cute ducks delivered smiles to all onlookers.
If you ask me to describe San Xavier Mission in one word, I will say, “hopeless.” Although thoughtful renovations are underway to restore the physical appearance of the church, the visages inside represent hundreds of individuals in desperate need of spiritual reconciliation. The parishioners light candles, rub statues, and perform rituals in hope of salvation when all they really need is a relationship with Christ.
If you want to enter Nogales, Mexico on foot, no one will stop you. Unlike Togo (where I waited nearly an hour for the border patrol to check my papers), no one stamped my passport as I walked through the metal turnstile and crossed the border.* These photos and my own memories are the only proof that I spent an hour in Mexico.
Oh, Mexico! I’ve never really been, so I don’t really know.
*Border agents did check my passport when I returned to the USA.